


I'll buy you coffee

by Alex_E



Category: Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: F/M, Frenemies, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 16:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_E/pseuds/Alex_E
Summary: After S2 Misty is slowly breaking down and asks Shades for help on a case.





	I'll buy you coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Come on, they would totally hit it off.

Mariah Stokes death should have been the end of things. It had almost been the end of her career. She hardly recognized herself anymore. She went fast and loose with the law all in the name of justice.  
She understood Scarfe a lot better. She hardly understood herself. It all seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

After Priscilla Ridley offered her the captain's position for the second time she reluctantly took it. She thought to herself that, if pushing herself near the limit to bring Mariah to justice had been a form of penance, so, perhaps, is staying for the aftermath. Returning to business as usual proved much harder than expected. Concentrating became an ordeal in its own. 

She was near her breaking point. Matching the people in a room to the voices she heard speaking, muffled and far away, sometimes seemed impossible. In her thoughts she was far away.

Sometimes she had to contain herself not to scream. She was tired quickly but at the same time sleep did not come easily.

She hates coming home to her empty apartment. She had many friends and colleagues and other people to turn to, Claire, Danny, Colleen but they all seemed to be busy these days. And she felt like they wouldn't understand her even if she tried to explain. She missed her old partner Scarfe. He’d understand.

She couldn't even remember the last time she had a real relationship with someone. When she made a connection. She hated to admit it but she was lonely. She lived for the job, she was 36 years old and had nothing to show for it. Except for her bionic arm, that made her feel really cool.

On top off all that she stumbled upon a human trafficking ring. Young girls 14 ,15 some even younger than that smuggled into the country with the promise of a golden future instead they were put to work as prostitutes.

She has a special hate reserved for people like that. Those who prey upon the weak and take advantage. She despised that kind of people. She is coming for them.

The girls who tried to leave were taken care off with the kind of brutality Harlem hasn't seen in years. 

She got a lead to a brownstone near Thomas Jefferson's park. They charged the house. To say the charge was a disaster was underselling it.  
Two of her fellow officers were shot and their life was in the balance. Worst off all they had to let their main suspect Luis Rey go due to a lack of evidence. He walked out of the station victoriously. It was all on her even though no one said it to her face, she heard the whispers. 

She watched Bailey throw his mug to the wall in frustration. It was one of those days. She wondered what it was about breaking things that made people feel better, that released tension; in some detached part of her mind she knew that breaking anything was pointless and probably costly. For the most part, though, she was simply looking for something to break as well. This was a police station there had to be something, something big and probably expensive and that would make a lot of noise. 

She felt that would help. Right now there's no closure to be had, no vindication, just a discomforting feeling of irrational guilt and wish that she'd never took the position of captain in the first place. 

She contemplates asking Luke for his help but she hardly recognizes him nowadays. Despite Luke’s ‘claim’ over Harlem, regular crime rates were down but gang violence was through the roof. He is way into deep with the wrong crowd. Mariah knew what she was doing. If you can't destroy a man from the outside, destroy him from within. She was clever, she gives her that, still ruining lives from beyond the grave. Too bad Luke doesn't see the trap she layed out. 

The case weighs heavy on her mind. She goes for a walk in an attempt to clear her head.  
There are roughly 335,109 people living in Harlem. It feels like fewer, the way she seems to run into someone she knows whenever she's out. So far the attempt seems futeless. 

She spots him on the other side of the street, he was strolling up as though he was the calmest, most relaxed man in the world. Dressed to the nines as ever.

She approaches him swiftly. “They let you out!” She nearly screams at him indignantly.

He seems unsurprised to see her. Perhaps he already spotted her. “You didn't think those charges would stick do you, not after I signed the proffer and my attorney walked out.”

‘So they let you out,” Misty stated disbelieving.

“Violation of my rights. You should know that, detective. He says with that contemptuous tone and that smile. She would love to wipe that smile of his face. 

“Nos vemos, detective.” He carries on and starts walking away from her.

She can't believe she is about to do this. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Right? 

“Hey wait?”

He turned around looking at her expectantly with those big sparkling amber eyes of his. 

“Your still in the know?”

“There's only being in, and then being out  
And I am out. I have no street cred left after I talked to you….” His smile was almost genuine, but then it turned morose very quickly.  
“We made a deal, remember. I was rather upset our professional courtesy didn't run both ways.”

Misty smirked. “I’m hardly ever courteous.”

“You didn't even let me finish my coffee.” He frowned and almost managed to sound petulant.

“Sorry I was too busy arresting you for murder.” Now it's her turn to smile.

Shades smiled right back. “I do have to admit, it was a clever move.”

“So will you hear me out?”

“I mean, I could but here?”

(He had a point.)

“I’ll buy you coffee.”

She really was at her wits end and apparently ‘hell hath frozen over’ as well. If Shades could provide her with something anything really well then that was worth the act of buying him coffee. She could last an hour with him. Shades just has this charisma about him even though he is a sociopath at best, he has something likeable. She reminds herself that he killed Candace Miller in cold blood, took that young woman's life away and he was proud of it. 

She subtly ignores the fact that Candace lied to them before and provided them with false information.  
More than likely any statement she would have made would be thrown out in court as inadmissible.  
Still, she was supposed to protect her. She promised. She failed. She wouldn't fail with this case.

They sat down opposite of each other in a nearby coffee place. She glances him over and he looks different. It is something in his manner, he is less cocky, less arrogant, he seems almost fragile.

“Why do you need my help.”

“You are an expert in criminal subterfuge.”

“Thanks, however I believe the status quo is doing fine without me.”  
Shades’s head tilted just slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked on the long line of her thigh. Interesting.

“Go on, then,” Shades prompted.

“I need everything you know about Luis Rey, son of the late Arturo Rey.” Shades cut her off with a snort. “How much time do you have?”

Three cups and a piece of pie and a whole lot of information later she asks him flat out; “Can you get me the location of Luis Rey?’

“You realize what you’re asking for is nearly impossible,” Shades continued. Misty’s face fell, and she nearly snarled into her coffee cup.

“Well, if you don’t think you’re up for the job….” 

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I accept. Now we must go through the tacky business of negotiating over a price.”

“Fine.” She told him as she kept from grinding her teeth in annoyance.

Shades leans back and chuckles.

“Have I said something amusing?”

“I've sat too many times on your side of the table not to enjoy the irony of finding myself on this side of it.”

It turned out Shades wanted all the information she could find on Tilda Johnson. She wasn't surprised by the request. She was sure they had some unfinished business together.  
She suspected that Tilda had a hand in Mariah's suspicious death. And well Tilda was a Stokes after all, the apple was bound not to fall too far from the tree. 

She agreed with his request. “ You get everything I can find after you delivered Luis Rey’s location.”

“We have a deal. I will keep my end you know I do.” There was that self satisfied smirk again.  
Halfway mid-conversation Shades drifted off seemingly lost in the photo of New York that was hanging on the wall. 

“Am I boring you?” She tried to keep her voice neutral but she found herself quickly running out of patience.

“When you only talk business you stop appreciating beauty.”

“I don't have much time for beauty.” Misty swallowed hard and tried not to be drawn in by the intensity of Shades’s gaze.

“That's a shame.”

“When people like you smell flowers, some of us have to pull the weeds.”

(Damn him)

Shades chuckled again and smiled brightly at her, she hated that smile. He held her gaze for a moment before dropping his eyes to his cup of coffee. If she tried, if she really stopped and looked at him, she would see through him. She silently motions her hand in a gesture for him to continue.

“The Latin King don't take to kindly to Luis and his crew running their business near their territory.”

“I thought all the gangs made there peace when Luke took over Harlem’s Paradise?” Misty interjects.

“What you thought Luke was in control,” Shades shakes his head and laughs. “Proximity to power deludes some into believing they wield it. No war ends, all wars are cold, Misty.”

“Have you ever thought that might be a fallacy. And don't call me that. It is detective Knight.”  
“It is just the way it is. Detective. He shrugs.  
“Luis Rey runs a prostitution ring, brings in girls young girls, teenagers from South America. The crew he hangs with is only in it for the money. Only way to stop the ring is to take Luis out. He gets off on it you know, controlling them. Puta madre,” Shades huffs in disgust.

“I will be happy to take him in.”

“He will continue to run his business from jail.  
You need to take him out for the ring to stop. Just do what you cops always do. Arrest him and accidentally shoot him in the head."

"We are the police, not a death squad."

"Have you forgotten your country's history in Latin America?"

She gives him a hard stare.

"Killing someone to save lives from being lost doesn't make you a murderer, it makes you a pragmatist.”

“Is that what you are?” 

“Among other things, yes.”

“Fascinating,” she responded sarcastically to cover up how uncomfortable he makes her feel, “I’m sure the day will come when I might enjoy sitting down with you for a long discussion on the philosophical lessons at the root of murder and pragmatism. Today is not that day, however. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”She gets up from the table, she throws some bills on the table, “for the coffee.” She makes her exit and doesn't dare to look back.

She heads home and takes a long shower. She vigorously scrubs herself trying to feel clean. She can't help but feel as though she just made a deal with the devil.

It has been 12 days since she asked Shades for help. She hasn't heard anything since. She is beginning to wonder if he would come through. He made a deal she reminds herself. He said he'll keep his end, she did not keep her end. It leaves her with a bad taste in her mouth.

He texts her the address on a friday afternoon. It leads to a warehouse in Washington Heights. She assembles a squad and they raid the place.  
Shades intel was useful.

Luis Rey is shot on sight, they free 16 girls. She thought that killing him would make her feel something. She expects to feel a rush of horror, a wave of grief, a sense of loss, but it doesn't come. Nothing comes. The silence in the ruined warehouse seems to echo, but that's it. Misty feels nothing. She barely even breathes.

There is a short celebration at the station. Her colleagues are congratulating her and each other on a job well done. She opened her laptop and looked up Tilda Johnson, she printed all the files she could find. It wasn't very interesting a parking violation her and there and that was pretty much it. Shades could have found that out anyway. It wasn't like he didn't have a cop on his payroll somewhere.  
Right now she needed to get out the station away from the festivities. 

She found herself driving to east 116th street, she pulled up in front of an apartment complex that has seen better days. She enters and hesitantly knocks on the door.

“Why are you here?” (she doesn't know)  
He asks her and before she can answer, she is lost for words. There are angry red welts on his neck imbedded by deep blue green bruising. His eyes have an eerie red colour due to burst capillaries.  
“What happened to you?” Misty was shocked and she almost put a hand comforting hand on him. She really didn’t want to consider how Shades had gotten such wounds (or why, or the fact that he likely deserved it). “I am into some kinky sex stuff,” he grinned while he self consciously put a hand on his neck and rubbed it. “I am sure you are.” She retorted.

“You didn't answer my question. Why are you here? Do you follow up with every informant? Because that sounds exhausting, and it sounds like you need to get a new hobby.”

Good for her he was being an cocky son of a bitch again, so she could stop feeling sorry for him right away.

“I came to thank you for the information and to give you this’ she handed him a thin envelope with information on Tilda. “It is not much not really.”

“ I knew that..”

“Then why make me go to the trouble of giving you this?"

"To see if you would, detective."

“Seriously,what happened to you?”

“Information has a price.” That was all he had to say. It was all the explanation she would get.

“You should see the other guy.”He smirks casually.

“Somehow I think the other guy will have disappeared without a trace.”Her accusation is clear. 

He doesn't answer her questions, but the self-satisfied smirk on his face says it all. 

He further opens the door and she enters his apartment she takes in the room. It is clean and spartan and lacks any personal touch.

What catches her eyes are the photos on the displayed out on the dressoir; An old one of what looks like Cornell Stokes and a few others. The Rivals, she guesses.  
A photo of a young woman with long black hair and a familiar smile, wearing an apron of cuchifritos. There are a several frames with Comanche, none of Mariah though.  
All these people are probably dead, she thinks sadly. She walks over and notices a photo of a very young Shades and Comanche on a roof making gang signs. There is something in the way they look at each other that gets her.

“Who was he to you, Comanche?”

“He was everything,” he replied hoarsely.

“You loved him.” It is not a question.

“Yes,” his voice was still flat. Just yes. He was being very guarded at the moment. It was hard for her to keep seeing him as a monster when he looked so damn breakable. But she couldn't afford to see him as anything else.

“How are you?”

“You almost sound concerned for my welfare, detective.”

She gave him a hard stare, then sighed loudly Oh, forget it.. 

“You know, she starts “It is strange how some choices mean nothing, and others determine the rest of your life. I have done something terrible.”

“You don't scare me.”

“I should.”

“What's wrong Misty?” He asks and there was a surprising amount of sympathy in his voice.

Misty holds back a sob while she almost chokes on the words coming out, she doesn't know why she is telling him this. Maybe because he is here and she needs to tell someone, anyone really and she is struck by his humanity

“I shot Luis Rey on sight……..there was an opportunity to take him in. I am not supposed to be this person.” He is close, standing way too close, she inhales his scent and she feels his heat radiating on to her. She fixes her gaze to the floor trying to breathe.

“You saved those girls and who knows how many others. You did the right thing. You stepped up.” She feels his hand settle gently on her arm. Such a small fucking thing, touch. She's starved for it, and hadn't even realised. She turns her head up so she can see his face. He has such expressive eyes, she never noticed before, it explains why he used to wear the shades though. From up close the bruising in his neck looks even worse. She sighs as he tightens his hold on her "It won't be all right."

“Guilt and remorse imply you've done something wrong, he reassures her. She lets out a watery laugh and shifts closer to him."I'm so fucking tired of this shit. I can't do this. Why am I still doing this?" His body's so warm, and she's so, so cold.

His right hand cups her cheek, his thumb brushing away the small tear drops gathered in the corner of her eye, while his left keeps a gentle pressure on her hip "I wish I knew. I'm sorry. But you want to know what takes courage? Doing the right thing no matter what you may be feeling. Holding it all together when the stakes are this high.”

There's a line she knows she could cross now and shouldn't, and it's all wrong, but then again everything's all wrong, so she does it anyway and brushes her mouth against his.

"If we do this, you'll hate yourself tomorrow," he lets her know as if to give her an out, but doesn't let go of her or move away.

"I will anyway."

He slowly kisses her. He leads her to his bedroom. He kisses her neck and it feels so good, she closes her eyes for a second lost in the feeling. She opens them again and she is staring at a $20 million dollar Basquiat, so that is where the painting went. He goes down on her and her orgasm comes as a surprise. 

Their still half dressed and she is okay with that, as if keeping their bodies from touching is some kind of compromise with the disapproving voice inside of her. She wraps her legs around his hips and slips her hand between their bodies to guide him inside. It bothers her that it doesn't bother her, but that doesn't stop her from gripping him tighter with her thighs, or from digging her nails into the skin of his back while he fucks her deep. Her second orgams shatters her completly.

He holds her afterwards and for the first time in a long while she feels safe. She inhales, exhales, she wills herself not to think about the fallout that was sure to come. She reminds herself that she hates him but it doesn't feel so convincing anymore.


End file.
